Paranatellon
by Bell-Jar
Summary: At five years old, Harry Potter decides to start a revolution. At sixteen, he makes the first move. Seventeen year old Cato Sieghild has been born and bred for one reason alone, to win the Hunger Games. When a certain green eyed radical crosses paths with the blond monster of District 2, sparks will fly. One thing's for certain: all hell is about to break loose in Panem. (slash)
1. I

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter and Hunger Games franchises are the brainchildren of JK Rowling and Suzanne Collins, respectively, and I don't own a single bit of either of them. Other than the books, the dvds, some posters, and maybe a replica of Hermione's wand.

Warnings: This piece will contain slashy slashy overly gay homosexual adventures driven by a big gay romance. Also some graphic violence, highly unlikely situations, slight changes to the Hunger Games timeline, general tomfoolery and mangling of either canon to suit my whimsy.

* * *

**Paranatellon**

_(n.) A star which rises at the same time as another star or object._

* * *

Four year old Harry Potter was confused.

He's never really sure why the yelling starts, it's different every time. He's sitting in his cupboard, chin balanced on his knees, which are drawn to his chest, staring into the darkness and thinking about how much nicer the house would be in a pleasant shade of blue…how much happier it would make everyone to see the home in a cheery light blue, when the racket begins.

Normally, Harry first hears his Uncle's yell coming from either the sitting room or upstairs, in which case the yell is immediately followed by the loud smashing of his footfalls on the stairs over the child's head. The overly rotund man would then round on the door to Harry's cupboard, growling threats as he fumbled with the lock. Uncle Vernon's bellowing won't stop once he gets Harry out, though his threats are usually worse than his punishments.

The average punishments are pretty gentle to the five year old now. Two days locked in the cupboard, only given water and let out to go to the bathroom when necessary are the standard. On occasion, either his aunt or uncle would knock him around a little, never enough to bruise or scar him.

Today, however, Uncle Vernon's enraged shout seemed to come from much further away to young Harry. The cry was so muffled that had Harry not had five years of practice listening for that particular sound with bated breath, the child would have missed it.

With a resounding slam, Harry heard what must have been the front door flying open and hitting an interior wall, rattling picture frames on the wall.

"FREAK!"

The fat man's roar seemed to shake the very foundation of the house, and little Harry instantly squeezed strikingly green eyes shut against the tears he felt spring up.

"BOY!" Vernon's volume and sudden closeness to the door made Harry jump wildly. "As soon as I get this lock off, you're in for it!"

The small boy in the cupboard began to tremble uncontrollably. A small sob escaped his throat and he sniffled slightly. Harry just didn't understand why he was punished so often, why he was such a bad person. He jumped again as Vernon began scrambling to grab the combination lock that kept the cupboard shut. Bouts of anger made Vernon clumsier, and his grotesque, sausage-like fingers had a tough time maneuvering the small lock around on the best of days.

Harry whimpered softly, begging in his mind to be anywhere other than his cupboard. Vernon's angry shouts and lumbering around with the lock began to fade away as Harry tuned all of it out. The little boy wanted so desperately to be somewhere else, anywhere else. Somewhere that he wouldn't be punished just for no reason, somewhere that his family would love him even though he was a freak, and maybe somewhere with lots of blue.

And before he knew it, the Boy Who Lived lost consciousness, gently slipping into a deep sleep as his magic swept him away.

Fate had something else in mind for the boy.

* * *

Five year old Harry Potter was a very happy boy.

Bright green eyes sparkled behind thin framed glasses as the little boy tromped up the cobblestone street, his hand clutching that of a tall, stylish, and slender blond woman. The two made quite a striking pair, a study in opposites. While sharing a very thin, waif-like shape, the two were completely un-alike in coloring. Harry was very fair of complexion, all snow white skin, plush red lips and an eternal blush on his cheeks. The little boy's hair was dark as night, and a startling contrast to his almost unnaturally green eyes. He looked like a child's doll brought to life. A little on the small side, but not disconcertingly so.

The woman, however, sported a healthy tan, her lean body spoke more of athleticism than a lack of nourishment. Her hair was the color of straw, and her eyes, hidden behind darkly tinted lenses, were a very becoming shade of hazel.

The young woman's name was Gwenyth Ahearn, and her life had taken a very peculiar turn almost two years beforehand. The animated young boy gallivanting by her side had simply appeared in the doorway of the cottage that she and her husband shared. As Gwen herself was unable to have a child, the couple had happily taken in the young boy, and had enthusiastically taken on the job of pampering him and giving him all the love and affection the boy clearly craved and had lacked wherever he'd come from.

"Mommy!" Harry cried exuberantly, swinging his arm with a great heave to garner the woman's attention. "Where are we going!?"

The beauty smiled softly at the boy. "We're going to the Justice Building, Harry. A very special event is happening today."

Harry scowled at his mother, black eyebrows furrowing into a threatening –and absolutely adorable, thought his adoptive mother- pout.

"But Mommy, my birthday isn't for another week. They can't celebrate it now! What will we do _on_ my birthday!?"

The woman chuckled outright at that, valiantly attempting to smother a laugh that would no doubt upset her sensitive child if he thought she was laughing at him.

"Don't worry, my lionfish. What they're doing at the Justice Building today does affect your birthday, but not very much. Your birthday is a very important day, Harry. It's the first day of the Hunger Games."

"Hungry…Games?" Harry said the words haltingly, as if testing them with his tongue. "Mommy, I was hungry in the old place and it never felt like a game to me. I would much rather play with the crabs on the shore than play hungry games."

"No, Harry. Not Hungry Games, Hunger Games…though, really, there's very little difference in the end." She muttered the last part under her breath.

"Remember how I told you about the Capitol, Harry?" The little boy nodded his affirmation as they continued walking. "Well, every year, one boy and one girl from each of the Districts go to the Capitol, where they compete in the Hunger Games. It's a great honor to win the games. Your father won the Games that he competed in."

"Really! I want to win them, too, then! How do you win?"

Gwen nearly stopped short at the question. While she knew Harry was aware of what death was, he'd known his birth parents had died after all, how exactly did one explain the Hunger Games to a small child? Especially when she and Wil had gone to such lengths to shelter Harry from all of Panem's unhappiness.

Luckily for Gwen, Harry continued barreling through his questions with all of the carefree delivery of a little boy.

"Is it like chess where you have to be smarter than everyone? Or is it like that game Ruhn, Shelly, and I played where we tried to see who could hold their breath the longest underwater at the cove and the only reason Shelly won is because I started to see spots?"

Sensing the perfect moment to divert the boy's attention, the blonde beauty struck.

"Excuse me?" she quickly interrupted, voice full of ire. "You did what?! You wait 'til your father hears about this."

At that, the boy's mouth snapped shut with an audible click. The statuesque blonde looked down at her son to see him staring forward resolutely, flushing with shame.

He peeked back up at his mother through thick black lashes, timidly asking where his father actually was.

"Your father is probably already at the Justice Building. He was at the docks in town this morning helping Mr. Odair work on his boat, you'll see him when he gets home this evening."

The pair continued ambling up the cobblestone street to the Justice Building, listening idly to the sounds of the water lapping at the nearby shore and the gulls calling out overhead. It was a hot and muggy morning in Panem's 4th District, even for the end of July. Not for the first time, Gwen found herself grateful to be living in District 4, rather than one of the poorer outlying Districts. Cooling oneself in the summer was never further away than a dip in the nearby sea, and the District was never cold enough to warrant more than a light jacket, so heating your home was never a problem. Food was always in abundance, and the people were more apt to share if a neighbor was suffering from a streak of bad luck fishing. Being a favored District with the Capitol didn't hurt at all either, Gwen mused idly.

Harry's mood began to lighten again as mother and son entered town. The normally bustling streets were fairly quiet, only random grown-ups milling about. Harry noticed that the townspeople about were giving off some nervous energy, but the exuberant five year old quickly wrote it off as the Justice Building began to take shape in the distance.

The only real town in District Four was built around the Justice Building. The village consisted of one long road, the Justice Building on one end, shops lining either side of the road, and the train station at the other end. The Justice Building itself was enormous by any standard. It was a large coral-colored building, the only building in the District other than the station that had more than one floor, featuring a bright red tile roof and wrought iron detailing. The entrance to the building was a raised platform looking out onto a large garden that hosted all of the village's important gatherings.

Harry found it very strange that the garden was full of people, but a strange quiet reigned over the crowd. It was the only time Harry had ever seen that many people in one place _not_ speaking. When they reached the arched entryway to the building, there was a table set up with several peacekeepers sitting at it, and Harry noticed that everyone in the garden was in a roped off area. Boys were separated from girls, and then age groups were separated from one another. To the immediate right, though, stood all of the adults and small children in their own roped off area. There were also large screens set up on either side of the stage, as tall as the Justice Building, they were showing scenes in the courtyard. Since coming to Panem, Harry had only known major news to be on the telly, so he knew something big was happening.

Harry's mother muttered something to one of the peacekeepers at the desk, Harry was too invested in thinking over what was happening to notice, and then gently pulled her small son over to the crowd of people in the very back.

The little green-eyed boy was taking in the crowd raptly, because for something his mother described as an honor, the crowd was very somber. It didn't look at all like people were being chosen for a game. He noticed all of the kids and teenagers up front were dressed well, most of them wearing their finest clothes. Their hair was neatly done, and the most of the older girls were sporting make up and little shell trinkets in their hair.

He was broken from his reverie by the amplified sound of a man clearing his throat. Harry turned to the platform on the front of the Hall of Justice, seeing a man had taken the stage while the black haired boy hadn't been paying attention. The man was elderly, and flanked by two peacekeepers. He was wearing what appeared to Harry to be a dress, light blue and lavishly adorned with little shiny things and silver patterns throughout the blue fabric. His hair was grey bordering on white, a long beard reaching his mid-chest, and small spectacles were perched on his nose jauntily. With a small sigh, the man began to speak.

"Greetings, District 4. I am Albus Dumbledore, and I would like to welcome to the reaping of tributes for the 64th Annual Hunger Games!"

Harry raised a small eyebrow at the word 'reaping.' It didn't sound like a terribly happy word. The crowd gave the strange looking man –Albus, Harry mentally corrected- a smattering of applause, and two peacekeepers from the sides of the stage moved to place giant bowls full of paper in front of the man onstage.

"Without further ado, let us begin. Ladies first, as is the way of things," and with that, Dumbledore moved to one of the glass balls and plucked a name from it. "This year's female tribute is Neara Opis!"

The crowd let out a collective gasp, and a few sobs could be heard breaking out. Harry drew his attention to the projector screen, unable to find the girl in the commotion. He watched as a pretty blonde girl, typical of the district, pulled her shoulders back and resolutely made her way to the stage. She took a spot next to Dumbledore, where the man smiled gently at her and congratulated her before moving to the other bowl of what Harry now knew to be names.

"And this year's male tribute is," Albus moved his spectacles slightly to read the name better. "Bay Kelvin!"

If Harry thought the crowd had reacted poorly to the first tribute's selection, they absolutely _erupted_ at this one. The general uproar was so much that the peacekeepers began making nervous gestures of moving at the crowd. On the screen, Harry watched in confusion as a small boy made his way to the stage, tears streaming down his face. Bay had been standing towards the very back of the crowd, with all of the youngest children allowed to participate, Harry noted. The boy in question also had an appearance typical of the district, tan skin, blond hair, and sea green eyes.

Dumbledore then spoke into his microphone, loud enough to interrupt the turmoil in the courtyard.

"That concludes this year's reaping. Will any wishing to visit the tributes before they leave for the Capitol please make their way to the peacekeepers in the front of the building. Everyone else, please exit the complex in a timely and orderly fashion."

Harry took a second to look at the man more in depth than before and saw his too blue eyes twinkling sadly behind those half-moon shaped glasses.

"Oh, yes. Happy Hunger Games, District Four, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor."

And with that, Dumbledore and the tributes, guarded by peacekeepers, were swept into the Justice Building.

The crowd began to mill out of the courtyard onto the main thoroughfare, Harry catching snippets of conversation from passersby as her mother began to herd him through the crowd.

"It's just so sad-"

"So young-"

"I can't imagine what I would-"

"If he was my son-"

The crowd began to thin out towards their homes as Gwen kept pulling Harry steadfastly towards their cottage on the sea. After winning the Games, Wil, Gwen's husband, elected to have a small cottage built directly on the ocean on the outskirts of town, rather than in the centrally located Victor's Village. His request was initially balked at, but Wil held a lot of sway with the public in the Capitol, as District 4 tributes tended to have, and the Mayor eventually received permission for the private residence from the government.

There was so much about these Games that didn't make sense to Harry. Winning the Games brought honor and fame to the district, but no one wanted to compete. Every year, two people from the district competed, but his father was the only competitor Harry had met. Obviously there was something Harry wasn't being told.

"Mommy?" the child asked hesitantly.

"Yes, lionfish?"

"What happens to the tributes who don't win the Hunger Games? Why was everyone so sad?"

Gwen's mouth set in to a grim line, knowing her inquisitive child wouldn't forget this line of questioning any time soon.

"The way that a tribute wins the Games, my lionfish, is by surviving. Out of the twenty four tributes, only the winner comes home at the end."

In that instant, the future of Panem was changed. Harry Potter had been born for greatness, regardless of whatever parallel universe he'd been thrown into, and the second his mother filled him in on the biggest injustice his young mind could fathom, he knew he had to change it.

Five year old Harry Potter, small of body from years of malnourishment, quick of mind from being thrown into an alternate dimension, and just over three feet of resolute heroism, decided that he was going to train his body and mind every day to enter the Games. He would become a tribute one day, win the Hunger Games, and defeat the system from the inside out.

But first, it was time for a snack.

* * *

And so for the next ten years, Harry indeed trained every single day. The Hunger Games that began on the child's sixth birthday ended in the tragic deaths of both tributes from District 4, a rather ingenious teen from the Third District winning by electrocuting an entire alliance of tributes bathing in a small pond.

The small green eyed boy spent his younger years training his mind for the games, knowing that no one in the village would teach any form of combat to a six year old. Harry poured over every book, magazine, pamphlet, and musty old tome he could find for any information that would be useful in the Games. He spent countless hours memorizing animal species and how dangerous they may be, plants that could be used to heal and those that could be poisonous, how the body reacts to dehydration and starvation, how to stretch the human body to its limits while still being able to live.

He read on the theory of several weapons that were in most games, all variations of blades, the bow, throwing knives. He left alone those he knew he would never be strong enough to wield well such as the axes and maces that usually found their way into the arena. Harry watched and re-watched every Hunger Games both for strategy and to desensitize himself to the carnage he knew he'd have to witness firsthand one day. He was, though, both proud and mildly disturbed by the Games won by his father. Wilhelm Ahearn was the victor of the 54th Annual Hunger Games at the age of 17. He'd formed an alliance with the tributes from District 2, and when it was down to himself and them, he decapitated the male with a greatsword and threw the female into a pool of acid after two days of hunting her down.

A particular favorite of his were the trident and net, also favored by his District's latest victor, Finnick Odair. Harry had a lucky in with his father being close friends with Odair's father, so Finnick had always seen Harry as a surrogate brother. After winning his Games, the teen reluctantly agreed to begin training Harry on his tenth birthday, though the smaller boy kept his zeal for the Games hidden from his trainer.

Harry grew inseparable from the blond teen, long having since spurned the other children his age for their insouciance and immaturity. He only had two friends that weren't his parents, and those two were Finnick and Finnick's girlfriend, Annie Cresta. Annie was the sweetest girl in the District, and on Harry's twelfth birthday, she began her own fight for her life in the Games.

Annie returned to the beachside district as a victor, but assuredly changed. There was a weariness in her blue-green eyes, a nervousness in her demeanor, she couldn't be in the company of more than a few people at once, and only Harry and Finnick could get close to her without triggering a panic attack.

The black haired boy's vow to end the Capitol's reign of terror was only strengthened by this, what he saw as a personal offense. By his thirteenth birthday, his father had discovered Harry pouring over the journals of former contestants in the Games, and began to train him in yet more forms of combat.

By the age of sixteen, Harry was a force to be reckoned with. Still small for his age, Harry was only around 5'4, but there was not an ounce of excess on his body. Lean, whipcord muscle covered his small frame, and all of his combat preparation with his father and Finnick had trained his body intensely in agility in flexibility. His brain was finely tuned, and his personality was sure to win over the hearts of the Capitol. While rather aloof with his peers, Harry had never been anything other than charming to a fault, and his appearance would definitely catch the eyes of the unbelievably shallow population of the Capitol.

All in all, he was ready.

Harry filed his nails with a piece of dried out coral, idly watching the crowd mill about him nervously. The moment he'd been preparing himself for over the last ten years had finally arrived. The reaping for the 74th Annual Hunger Games. He'd already been identified at the peacekeeper desk, sorted like a fish at the market, and herded into the rest of the fifteen year old boys. The games would open on Harry's sixteenth birthday. He grimly wondered if he'd receive any gifts from a sponsor.

Harry had already decided this would be the games for him. The following year was a Quarter Quell, and the green eyed teen had no desire to enter what would no doubt be a shitstorm, as all the Quells were. Buying tesserae was out of the question as the child of a previous victor, so Harry would have to rely on luck or volunteering, which was not totally out of the ordinary for the career district he lived in.

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as the crowd tensed en masse. He turned nearly luminous green eyes on the stage as Albus Dumbledore again strolled out to a microphone. The man looked much the same year after year, though Harry had watched as the twinkle in the Dumbledore's eyes had become sadder and sadder. The peacekeepers again laid out the two reaping bowls, and the elderly man cleared his throat into the mic.

"Ahem," Albus began. "Greetings, citizens of District 4! I hope you've all been enjoying this lovely weather on today, reaping day for the 74th Annual Hunger Games!"

A half-hearted cheer rose up from the crowd, mostly for the audience in the Capitol they all knew to be watching.

"Let's begin with the reaping," Albus moved to the first reaping bowl and reached in with a flourish. "Ladies first…the female tribute for this year's Hunger Games is Miss Luna Lovegood!"

The projector screens zoomed in on a blonde girl fairly close to Harry in the crowd. She had large, dreamy grey eyes set in a soft, cherubic face. Her hair was waist length and adorned with various shells and sand dollar pieces, oddly complimentary of her floor-length, grey, halter topped dress. For having such a soft appearance, she held her head up high and approached the stage with a soft smile on her face, greeting Dumbledore with a serene curtsy as she took her place next to him.

"Such a lovely competitor," Dumbledore smiled at her and motioned for the crowd to continue applauding. He waited a few more seconds for the crowd to die down before reaching into the second bowl. As his hand descended into the pile of names, Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on his name being on whatever paper Albus grabbed. Harry's luck had never failed him on things he wanted desperately, something he'd always kept in mind since coming to Panem.

"And District Four's male tribute is," Albus announced, looking over half-moon spectacles at the crowd. "Mr. Harry Potter."

* * *

A/n: And there it is! I had the idea for this after watching The Hunger Games with my boyfriend on Tuesday, typed up a brainstorm on the plot on Wednesday, and have literally written in every spare second for the past two days. After clocking maybe five hundred words over two years, 9 pages in two days has been pretty reaffirming for me. Hope you stick around for the rest of this ride, it's gonna be a little bumpy!


	2. II

Disclaimer: I still don't own either The Hunger Games or the Harry Potter series.

* * *

_The first thing a revolutionary must learn is that he is a doomed man._

_-Huey P. Newton_

* * *

Despite being prepared for and even having wanted it, the reality of being chosen to compete in the Games was a shock of cold water to the face for Harry. He was only peripherally aware of his own face appearing on the projector screens, a small, seemingly helpless boy with big green eyes hidden behind glasses, on display for all of the Capitol to see. After a split second, Harry managed to pull himself together.

He was basically pushed out of the crowd of fifteen year old boys, and then shoved at the stage. The unruly haired teen didn't have to work overly hard to keep his faced school into an expression of innocent shock. Albus was waiting at the center of the stage, eyes twinkling sadly as he watched Harry ascend the short staircase granting entrance to the platform. Harry shook hands with the old man, still in somewhat of a daze. The sea breeze carried a waft of citrus to the green eyed boy, finally snapping him out of his surprise.

Lemons, Harry thought idly. The man smelled of lemons. After shaking Dumbledore's hand, he moved to stand slightly behind him and next to the girl tribute; Luna, if he remembered correctly. He offered a small, slightly nervous smile to the cameras.

Harry and Finnick had strategized relentlessly for this. Finnick knew well how sway with the Capitol's citizens could mean life or death in the arena. They'd decided that with Harry's appearance, the safest way to earn the love of the Capitol was to earn the sympathy of the Capitol. His small frame and wide, verdant eyes, along with his flawless skin and unruly hair gave him a rather innocent, somewhat naïve appearance. The citizens of the Capitol considered themselves far more worldly and cultured than the denizens of the districts, so Finnick and Harry had hatched a plan to play up on that. Harry would play innocent, constantly in wonder of the Capitol, and happy and honored to be given the chance to compete in the arena.

Albus cleared his throat before speaking into the microphone. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, concludes the reaping for the 74th Annual Hunger Games. If you'd like to say goodbye to the tributes, please form a line at the entrance to the Justice Building. Otherwise, please exit the courtyard in a quick and orderly manner. Happy Hunger Games!"

With a flourish of his dress-like robe, Albus turned on spot and faced his new charges.

"Now, we must be off. You'll meet with your families in the Justice Building for a short time, then we have a train to catch." The elderly man ushered them inside the Justice Building quickly, placating any questions the teenagers had with a small smile.

Harry found that the next fifteen minutes or so passed in a blur. He was herded into the Justice Building by a hand on the small of his back, where his finger was again pricked for blood to make sure he was who he claimed to be. His mother had gone through quite a struggle to get a previously non-existent 5 year old registered, but with a compelling story of rescuing an orphaned boy paired with having a Hunger Games victor as a husband, Gwen eventually won out in the end.

The green eyed teen was then pushed into a small examination room by a peacekeeper, where he was weighed, measured, poked, prodded, and categorized by skin color, eye color, hair color, and even his very shoe size. From there, he was again herded around the building, this time into a small room with a table.

Harry was fairly certain that the room was usually used for interrogating people suspected of illegal activities, but he supposed it doubled as a place for the District 4 tributes to say farewell to their loved ones. The teen was ambivalent about saying his goodbyes. He fully intended to survive and win the Games, but that didn't necessary mean he meant to return to the district. After all, if he meant to topple the government of Panem, he would have to stay in the Capitol. At that, he wasn't so sure that he would survive staging a revolt. After all, if the Capitol could destroy an entire district for insurrection, he had little doubt that could put him down in a heartbeat if he wasn't careful.

Harry was beginning to realize exactly how deep the waters he was beginning to tread actually were. Instead of finding himself nervous or scared, though, the bespectacled boy found himself rather excited at the prospect of such an epic journey. It wasn't every person that found themselves contemplating how to properly destroy an entire ruling body and actually acting on it, the teen thought ruefully.

A few minutes after he'd been dropped off, the door to his little room threw itself open, a small horde of tan-skinned blonds filling the room. Harry suddenly found himself completely enveloped in several sets of bronzed arms, completely unable to make sense of the babbling of about five people simultaneously. The clamor died down after a few seconds, and Harry felt people leave the dog pile one by one, until only his mother's arms were wrapped around him.

"Harry…" Gwen whispered tearfully. "My beautiful, brave lionfish. I won't patronize you by telling you to be careful. Be yourself. I've always called you my lionfish because I knew this day would come. The lionfish is the prettiest fish in the sea, but its spines are deadly. Just like you, love. Come back to me, okay?"

Harry squeezed his mother, tears beginning to stream from his glass green eyes. "Of course I'll come back to you. No one in the Capitol will make me chowder as good as yours."

Gwenyth chuckled, giving the boy one last squeeze. "I love you, Harry. I may not have given birth to you, but you'll always be my baby boy."

With that, she stepped out into the hallway. Harry's father walked up to the boy next, taking both of the teen's hands. Electric blue eyes met equally bright green as they held gazes for a moment. Wil grasped his son's hands firmly before speaking, never breaking eye contact.

"You will be brilliant, Harry. You're ready for this, and I can't wait to see you when it's all over. Listen to your trainers, make friends with your stylists, charm the Capitol the way you've enchanted us, and you'll be fine. I love you."

Wil pulled the small frame into his chest, resting his chin on his son's head. After a second, he pulled himself free and left the room to be with his wife, casting a final nod at his son. With that, Harry found himself engulfed by Annie.

Annie was, without a doubt, Harry's best friend in the world. He would sorely miss the quiet girl and everything she brought to his life. When Harry had been beaten down by Finnick and his father's training methods, Annie had always been there to help him heal his scratches and cuts. She would read quietly with him on his studying rampages, always there to remind the boy to eat and force him to sleep. She was his confidant, there for him as he'd come to terms with the fact that he liked boys, just as he was there for her when she realized she was absolutely in love with Finnick. The two had been attached at the hip since she'd returned from her Games. No words were exchanged between the two, Harry simply rested his head on the older girl's shoulder as they held one another.

An all too short period of time later, knuckles rapped on the door. A peacekeeper stuck her head in the door and informed Harry his time for goodbyes was up, gesturing for the pair to leave the room. Harry nodded his acquiescence and pulled back from Annie.

The quiet girl spoke first, letting go of Harry to reach into a pocket on her dress. She pulled out a woven bracelet. It was navy blue in color, with streaks of turquoise throughout the weave. The bracelet was fastened with a small golden anchor on one end that held a loop of material from the other end.

"A tribute token," Annie smiled sadly. "It was mine. For you to remember where you came from, to remember where you have to come back to."

Harry nodded, green eyes narrowing with determination as he took the bracelet from Annie, slipping it on his wrist and hooking the anchor to close it.

"Look after mom and dad for me, okay? You and Finnick be good," Harry grinned slyly. "Tell Finnick goodbye for me. I'll be back for the wedding."

Annie's hazel eyes sparkled through her tears and she punched him lightly on the arm. She then motioned towards the door. "Get going, you have a competition to win, honor and family tradition and all of that."

Harry smiled widely at the girl and waved, leaving her in the small room. He followed the female peacekeeper through a few more hallways that led to a staircase. They climbed several sets of stairs before being reaching a large metal door. The peacekeeper fumbled with her belt for a few minutes before retrieving a key. She unlocked the door and used her full body weight to push it open, letting out an audible heave. Harry grimaced as the sun blinded him. He followed the woman out hesitantly, letting his eyes readjust to the bright coastal sun. He stopped short with a gasp as he stepped out onto the roof of the justice building.

Harry'd lived in District 4 for a decade, but he'd never seen the district from such a vantage point. Little red tile and brown clay roofs dotted the sandy landscape. The little coral houses were beautiful in the noon sun, as was the water. Out past the train station, as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but sand, surf, and beach grass swaying lightly in the breeze.

"Come on, Mr. Potter." His assigned peacekeeper ordered gently, snapping him out of his reverie. Harry looked ahead to see Albus, the girl tribute, and another peacekeeper standing in front of a contraption Harry hadn't seen before. Wil had informed Harry that the Capitol was home to many technologies Harry had only dreamed of, but the teen had assumed that the Capitol would just be on par with technology Harry had been familiar with back on Privet Drive.

The machine looked like a mail truck Harry would've seen in England, just made of a shiny reflective metal rather than painted a matte color. It was boxy in shape and the back doors were open to reveal some seating and the cab, were a person Harry assumed to be the driver. It was nearly identical to the trucks back in the old world, except for the small fact it was floating a foot or so off the ground.

Harry stepped cautiously up into the transport, accepting a hand from the female peacekeeper he'd been shadowing. He took a seat next to her and buckled himself in to the safety harness. The doors whirred closed, and all was quiet in the small vehicle.

"You've heard of the hovercraft used for transportation in the Capitol, yes?" the peacekeeper asked to break the silence.

Harry nodded an affirmation, turning to look at the woman's visored face.

"This kind of hovercraft is used for transporting just a few people over short distances, rather than the larger hovercraft you may have heard of. It's mainly used for transporting government officials around the skyscrapers, so they avoid foot traffic on the ground."

Albus slid in to the conversation at that point. "Yes, we were provided this transport so you wouldn't have to deal with the reporters on the ground. It's only carrying us over to the train station across town."

Harry heard more than felt the gentle hum of the hovercraft's engines, and assumed that they were in route to the train station. There was only the slightest sense of motion, a testament to the technological prowess of the Capitol. He returned his focus to the peacekeeper next to him.

"What's your name?" Harry whispered.

The woman appeared startled for a second, not used to being seen as anything more than a symbol of the Capitol's oppression. "Juno," she answered. "My name is Juno."

"Well, Juno," Harry smiled. "It's very nice to make your acquaintance. Will you be joining us for the duration of the trip?"

"Actually, I am assigned to you for the duration of your stay in the Capitol, and I'll return to your service after the Games to see you back to your district and accompany you on the Victory Tour."

Harry smiled charmingly at the woman. "Then I am very glad to have you along."

The hum of the transports engines deepened a little and Albus and the peacekeepers began unfastening their safety restraints. Harry and the female tribute followed suit. A loud hiss signaled the change in air pressure opening the door. Albus lead the way out of the transport, his charges following, and the two peacekeepers bringing up the rear. The group was on the roof of the train station. Albus and the others moved forward, but Harry took a second on the roof for himself.

He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the waves washing up on the beach, the ever-present sea breeze whistling through his ears, and the gulls all but yelling at beachgoers. He opened his eyes to take a final look at the ocean. Harry had always loved the ocean. Even as a child, blue had always been his favorite color. Living with the Dursleys, Harry hadn't experienced much outside of Surrey, and he'd been absolutely entranced with the ocean ever since arriving in District 4. Watching that endless expanse of water ebb and flow had never failed but to put the teen at peace.

"Harry?" Dumbledore had stopped, eyeing the black haired teen concernedly. "Come along, Harry."

"Oh," Harry shook himself out of his thoughts. "I'm sorry."

"Taking in the sea? It's a wondrous thing." Albus smiled at the much younger male.

"I was saying goodbye."

The group made their way through the station and onto the train without incident. The train was small by the standards of the freight trains in England, only seven cars. The first was clearly for the conductor and housed the engine, then Luna, Dumbledore, the peacekeepers, and Harry all had their own separate cars. One of the cars was an open area dedicated to a dining area, the teen assumed. It was indulgently decorated, with an enormous table dominating the room, easily able to sit twenty or so people. Harry wasn't sure what was housed in the remaining two cars, as the first place they were shown to on entering was their own cars. Harry was in the last car of the train, with Luna's car in front of his, Dumbledore in front of that, and the peacekeepers sharing a car before him.

The small teen gaped as he investigated his room for the trip. It was lavish bordering on absurd, the boy thought. Green eyes were wide as saucers as he took in the general splendor of the car. As he had the end of the train, the back of his room was curved window comprising the back wall of the train. All along those windows was plush, soft bench seat of a fabric Harry was unable to name as he ran a hand along the material. There were two doors, one on either side of the room. The room was dimly lit by small lamps made of an undoubtedly precious metal, and the shiny table in the middle was a stone that Harry bet cost more than his house in District Four. There were silver trays of decadent looking finger foods and crystal carafes of drinks sitting on a cart next to the table.

Harry ventured over to one of the doors and opened it to find a bathroom. He was again awestruck by the style and materials used in the making of the room. There was a tub large enough for his entire family, and a separate shower made of an earthen tile sprinkled with little hints of an aquamarine colored stone. The sink was long enough for Harry to lay in, with a mirror that matched its size. All of the bathroom fixtures were just as expensive looking, and the cabinets were filled to the brim with every form of lotion, soap, shampoo, conditioner, and other cosmetic potion he could think of. This bathroom alone could have cleaned the denizens of his home district for a month. Harry had been informed of the Capitol's excesses, but he hadn't expected them to be quite so…excessive.

The small teen closed the door behind him and turned to discover what was behind the second door. He opened it and took a step into what proved to be a bedroom. The bed was large enough for four people, and covered in plush, soft furs that Harry couldn't help but run his fingers through. Just because he despised the government for its excesses didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the pleasures of soft, warm bedding, the teen decided. The bedroom was much more demure than the rest of what Harry was beginning to think of as a palace on wheels. The bed dominated the room, nightstands made of a shiny black stone flanked the bed on either side. There was a small bookshelf to the right of the bed, the nightstand adjacent to the shelf carrying a small reading lamp. The room was lit by an opulent chandelier, undoubtedly priceless crystals dripping from the gold fixture like water. Harry took his glasses off, placing them on the nightstand. He then hopped on the bed, curling up in the soft furs with a sigh.

The dark haired boy had little doubt that he'd win the Games. He'd trained his mind and body to its peak over the past ten years, and if he was bested in the arena it meant he'd either done something to deserve it or someone out there really was better prepared than he was. Either way, doubt served no purpose, the teen decided, snuggling deeper into the warm covers and pulling a pillow under his head. His main problem was what to do after he was victorious. Harry sincerely doubted they would begrudge him a wish to stay in the Capitol, where he would have to be if he wished to overthrow President Snow and install a new government.

Most importantly, what new government could he possibly put in power? Was anyone else at outraged at the current dictatorship as he was? Was there anyone in existence with the ability to move Panem in a new, equal, humane direction? Would the citizens of the districts even support such a rebellion? Would the citizens of the Capitol?

The sheer number of questions and variables was enough to give Harry a headache. The teen flopped over on the bed with a groan, hands reaching up to tug at already messy black hair, a habitual action when the boy had a headache. He was brought out of his thoughts, and encroaching migraine, by a small knock at the door. Harry rolled out of his cocoon and fetched his glasses on his way into the living space of his car.

He opened the door to find Juno standing there, a very becoming smile on her face. "Hello, Harry," she greeted chirpily, a 180 from her disposition earlier that day. "Albus requests that you come to the dining car for dinner. You must be hungry, what with missing lunch for the reaping."

Harry hadn't given a thought to it, but it indeed felt like months had passed since he had breakfast with his parents that morning.

"Is it already dinner time?" he asked, stepping out in to the hall and closing the door to his suite behind him.

"Oh, yes. It's very nearly night time, actually. The train ride to the Capitol will take all night, you'll have breakfast with everyone again in the morning, and we'll arrive shortly after the meal." Juno explained, leading the way through a few cars into the dining room. She opened the door for Harry, stepping aside for him to enter.

The lavish table was filled to the brim with foods, most of which Harry had never seen before. Two servants, very outlandishly dressed in red tunic tops and red pants reaching mid-calf, stood on each side of the room. Albus, Luna, and the two peacekeepers were already sitting at the table, as was an older woman Harry had never met before and—

"Finnick!" Harry shouted, green eyes lighting up at the sight of his oldest friend.

"Hey there," the easy going blond greeted. He stood up from the table as the smaller teen lunged into his arms. "Oof! Careful, short stuff. You're dense for such a little guy."

Harry pulled away from the taller male with a fine black brow raised. "What are you doing here, Finnick?"

Albus interrupted the two at that point. "That, Harry, is something I will explain if you would please have a seat."

Harry nodded, smiling at the man as he took a seat between Finnick and Luna, directly across from Dumbledore.

"As we talk, though, the Capitol has graciously provided this wonderful meal. Eat whatever you like and however much you like." Albus smiled winningly at his young charges, blue eyes twinkling at them in happiness.

Harry helped himself to a cup of tea, he'd always enjoyed the brewed concoctions Annie had made, and he figured a Capitol blend couldn't be much worse. In terms of food, though, most of it was rather unappetizing in appearance to the District 4 boy. His home leaned more towards light meals: seafood was really the only meat in abundance, garden vegetables could be grown year round in the warm climate, and herbs were far more common than spices. The heartiest dish Harry usually had was a fish stew his mother made, and dessert seldom went further than fresh fruit.

Luna appeared to have the same problem, eyeing a roast of some sort with trepidation at best.

"Tuck in, kids," Finnick advised.

"Yes, food will be scare during the Games. Hunger now will mean certain death later," the elderly lady across from Finnick added.

The two teens paled slightly at the reminder, each of them hesitating another second before beginning to pile plates from the buffet. Harry was pleasantly surprised by the taste of the various dishes, it was all clearly as high quality as the finishings decorating the interior of the train itself.

"Well," Dumbledore began as the table began to eat. "Your schedule for the rest of the week is rather rigorous, I'm afraid. We arrive in the Capitol tomorrow, and the train will drop us off directly at the Remake Center."

"Remake Center?" Luna asked, large grey eyes looking up from her food.

"The Capitol assigns all of the tributes a prep team of stylists. The stylists wait for you in the Remake Center, where they will 'beautify' you for the Capitol citizens. Not all the contestants are naturally as devastatingly attractive as I am," Finnick explained, a lazy smile crossing his face.

"Finnick is quite right. Mostly. Once in the Remake Center, you'll both be sent to your respective prep teams where you'll be made ready for the opening ceremonies."

"First up is the chariot procession! You'll be dolled up to represent District 4, thrown on a horse-drawn chariot, and paraded through the City Circle up to President Snow's mansion, where he'll give a rousing speech about the glory of the Hunger Games and how the odds will be ever in someone's favor," Finnick interrupted again. A mischievous grin was overtaking the handsome blond's face at an alarming rate.

"Finnick Odair!" Albus snapped, pinning the smug blond with a glare. "Will you please let me do my job?"

Properly chastised, the blond merely nodded his assent before burying his face in a cup of tea, cheeks reddening visibly. The woman sitting across from him chuckled, reaching out to place a hand over the no longer haughty blond's.

"Really," Albus sniffed. "Again, despite his poor timing and manners, Mr. Odair was correct. Tomorrow night will end in the opening parade through the downtown area, culminating in President Snow's introductory speech. From there, you'll be taken to the Training Center, where you'll live for the remainder of your time in the Capitol before the Games."

Dumbledore took a sip of his drink before continuing. "You'll live on the fourth floor of the building, as you are the tributes from District Four. I will share that floor with you as your Escort, as will Finnick and Mags, who will serve are your Mentors for the Games." He gestured at the embarrassed blond and elderly woman in turn. "They are both former victors of the Games, and you will find their advice absolutely invaluable. They will also handle the procurement of sponsorships for you and will be your lifeline to Panem while you're in the arena."

Mags greeted Luna and Harry with a murmured hello, her speech somewhat unnatural in rhythm and articulation. Her smile was serene, though, and Harry could tell that she would come to mean a lot to him if he allowed himself to get close to the older victor.

"My beautiful counterpart recently suffered a stroke, but she will be undergoing treatment in the Capitol to help with her speech. She specifically wanted to come along and mentor the two of you, despite her frustrations with speaking," Finnick had a winning smile on his face as he spoke. He looked at Mags as a sort of parent, Harry could tell. The affection that flowed between the two of them was nearly moving.

"I believe we'll have a lovely time learning from the two of you," Luna interjected, also basking in the warmth between the two victors.

"You should enjoy the time you have with your mentors. Ties back at home and in the Capitol undoubtedly help one's will to survive."

Dumbledore's backhanded reminder about the nature of the Games was sobering to the teens. Harry really could have seen himself becoming friends with the gentle girl sitting beside him, in another time and place. Her kind demeanor and nearly otherworldly elegance were very endearing personality traits to the black-haired boy; they reminded him keenly of his mother back home in 4. Harry really hoped that he wouldn't have to kill Luna in the arena. He would if forced, but wouldn't relish it at all. He silently cursed the Capitol yet again for putting them in this situation to begin with.

"The day after the parade," Dumbledore continued. "You'll have breakfast together on our floor, then you'll be taken to the training grounds where you will train from 10am for as long as you like. This routine will continue in the same manner for several days, until you are given your training assessment by the Gamemakers. We will explain more about the assessment at a later date. The day after that you will perform your final interview for all of Panem to see, then the following morning the Games will begin."

Over the course of his escort's diatribe, Harry found himself rather stuffed by the heavy Capitol foods. He noticed Luna appeared to be in a similar state, and smiled sympathetically at the blonde girl.

"Do you have any questions about the coming week?" The man looked imploringly from Harry to Luna.

"Will we have any free time?" Luna asked, luminous eyes centered on their escort. "I would enjoy having some time to myself each day. Perhaps to read or write something down. Some normalcy before the Games begin."

Albus nodded, giving the girl a tender smile. "Yes, Miss Lovegood. You'll have training every day beginning at 10am, with a lunch break at one. You'll then be required to train for an additional three hours, but are free to leave at your leisure at four in the afternoon, barring any special events scheduled by the Gamemakers. Most tributes do stay and train well after four, but you will not be forced to do so."

"Thank you, sir." Luna responded, smiling at the man in turn.

"Anything else?" Albus looked at Harry. Upon receiving a shake of the bespectacled teen's head, the wizened man continued. "Well, then you're both free to go for the evening. Your assigned peacekeeper will come to get you in the morning for breakfast. I'd advise you to get as much sleep as possible. Creature comforts will be few and far between after the week is out."

Albus and Luna left shortly thereafter, presumably to get some rest before their arrival in the Capitol. Harry lingered in the dining car with the two mentors, laughing in self-deprecation as Finnick told Mags several embarrassing stories regarding Harry's training with the older male, such as one time when Finnick had stripped the other boy bare a restroom at the docks and told Harry to meet him back at Finnick's place in the Victor's Village. To teach him stealth, naturally.

Mags excused herself during a lull in the conversation, and the peacekeepers went to their car as well, leaving Harry and the blond victor alone in the car. The green eyed teen spoke strategy with Finnick for a little bit longer, finally submitting to his tiredness shortly thereafter.

Harry showered and stripped down to his skivvies, jumping into bed and placing his glasses on the nightstand. He sighed softly as he burrowed down into the warm covers. The teen yawned, pulling a pillow down under his head from the headboard, as he was curled into the center of the bed. It had been a long, exhausting day. He'd had breakfast with his parents, sat through an assembly with the entirety of his district, been picked to mercilessly slay or outlast twenty three other teenagers in what will be a bloodbath of a booby-trapped arena, flown for the first time, gotten on a train for the first time, been surprised by his best friend, eaten red meat for the first time since age five, met and sat next to a nice girl he might have to murder in cold blood, _and_ been given his schedule for the next week.

The boy who had a bird's nest for hair yawned again, exhausted all over again merely thinking about it. As he slid into unconsciousness, he began to ponder the best way to begin his revolution.

His last thought before slumber was the half-asleep musing that he would perhaps be the first virgin in history to overthrow a government.

* * *

A/n: Chapter 2! Next chapter: Harry arrives in the Capitol of Panem, makeovers abound, angry hot blond men are introduced, Harry starts to plan his revolution, and training for the Hunger Games begins! Please please please review! Let me know what you think of the story; any and all feedback is greatly appreciated.


	3. III

Disclaimer: I still don't own either franchise. Just playing around, here.

* * *

_Beauty is power; a smile is its sword._

_-John Ray_

* * *

Breakfast the following morning was a somewhat strained affair, the nerves beginning to set in for both Harry and Luna. The blonde girl nibbled on a piece of bread with little dried fruits in it, idly sipped at a glass of juice, and showed unease on her normally calm visage for the first time. Harry found himself in much the same state. Finnick had impressed upon him over and over again the importance of the days leading up to the Games. Harry's popularity with the Capitol could very well make or break him once in the arena. Striking a balance during training would also prove to be a problem for the boy. He had to prove threatening enough to receive a high score from the game makers, but not so threatening as to draw unwanted attention from the other tributes in the arena.

Harry was skilled in combat, but that wouldn't do him any good if he was ganged up on.

The mentors and tributes watched a television set in the dining cart while eating their morning meal, the reapings of the following day being televised for all of Panem to see. Harry noted the tributes from the other career districts especially, knowing full well they would prove to be the biggest threats to his survival other than the arena itself.

The pair from the luxury district were rather unimpressive to Harry. The boy was tall and lanky, all limbs and torso. Harry decided the boy was rather handsome, but his eyes and dopey grin led the small teen to believe the other tribute was less than intelligent. The girl was a stunner, and the boy from the seaside district knew immediately that she was far more of a danger than her partner. Her long blonde hair fell in luscious curls to her lower back, and two perfect rows of sparkly white teeth lit up the screen when she began to approach the first district's escort. There was a noticeable edge to her smile, though, and Harry knew she could –and would—kill without a second thought once in the arena.

The other career district, District Two, fielded far more impressive combatants, in Harry's opinion. The girl was small of stature, but the green eyed teen knew all too well how size didn't always correlate to skill. She was dark in skin, hair, and eye color. Her brown eyes burned fiercely on camera, and her face was a rather intimidating mixture of fearsome sneer and challenging glare. The boy, if at all possible, was twice as threatening. Absolutely enormous in height and with arms the size of Harry's waist, the male tribute from two was a monster. The large blond male actually lunged at the stage and volunteered, a smug smile crossing his face.

Harry couldn't help but feel a tightening in his pants, grimacing at his reaction to the blond brute. The boy was gorgeous, towering over the female volunteer, and he was an absolute wall of solid muscle. The Capitol's cameramen zoomed in on the hulking boy's face, showing his perfect teeth bared in a caricature of a smile, stormy blue eyes glinting dangerously. Harry was particularly enamored with the color of the boy's eyes, the same blue-grey as the ocean on a cool, overcast fall day. The teen from District Four filed the fact that apparently tall-strong-and-life-threatening was a turn on into the 'WTF' pile and mentally locked the drawer. The petite boy crossed his legs delicately and discreetly, drawing his attention back to the TV screen from his own rumination. Cato, he learned, was the large teen's name. He'd promised himself not to learn the tributes names, as the more he humanized them, the harder they'd be to kill. It seemed this Cato was going to cause him to break several of his rules.

The reapings for the other districts proved mostly uninteresting to the black haired boy. His own was really surreal, seeing his own electric green eyes foggy and overwhelmed and Luna's quiet amusement with the whole ordeal. His heart gave a pang of discontent at the choosing of both District 7 and 11's females. The pair from the lumber district were siblings, both bearing flaming red hair, a smattering of freckles, and gangly builds. The male, clearly the elder, moved to shelter his sister from the brunt of the attention. Harry inwardly grieved for the pair's parents, knowing with his agenda that they would lose two children in the Games. The girl from District 11, tugged at his heartstrings just as much. She was a tiny, sprightly little girl. Her skin, hair, and eyes were all a dark brown, and the teen from District Four all but begged for someone to volunteer in her place, but no one did.

Then came the District 12 reaping. It was nearly unprecedented for anyone outside of the career districts to volunteer. There were several reasons for this: the outlying districts didn't offer any survival or combat training, Districts 1, 2, and 4 had a disproportionately large pool of victors, and the districts were so poor that most families basically relied on the income brought in by all family members of reaping age or older. The girl reaped from District 12 was a young girl, no more than twelve or thirteen, shocked at her name being plucked from the reaping bowl. Almost immediately, an older girl from the district screamed her intent to volunteer. She was clearly the younger one's sister. Pretty in a plain sort of way, she had dark hair, olive skin, and grey eyes that were clearly wizened beyond her age. Harry could tell from her stoic expression that she was going to be problematic for him; she was completely determined to return to her sister after the games. The male tribute was more physically imposing, but much less worrisome to Harry. He was tall –most of the male tributes were tall to Harry—and much like the female tribute in terms of coloration and build.

Harry made a point to remember the contestants most likely to pose a problem. The girl from 1 could prove wily, the pair from 2 were likely trained as well as or better than he was, the boy from 11 was physically dominating, and the girl from 12 was just outright dangerous. Harry recognized the fire in her eyes; he felt the same burn within himself. Once more Harry shook his head at the Capitol's despotism, throwing away the lives of these teenagers for sport. It was disgusting.

"Are you worried, Harry?" A quiet voice came from beside him.

Harry barely kept himself from jumping as his tribute partner startled him. "Somewhat," the black haired teen answered. Upon seeing the confusion in the mild girl's eyes, Harry clarified. "Honestly, I feel like I want it badly enough, but there's so much that can happen in the arena that are out of my hands. It's nerve wracking. And some of the other tributes are…impressive, at the very least."

Luna nodded, the serene fog drifting back over her grey eyes. Harry had only known her overnight, and he already enjoyed her tranquil presence. Logically, the teen knew that making friends was a bad idea, but he couldn't help but like the mostly quiet girl.

"How old are you, Luna?" Harry found himself wondering.

"Fourteen, but I turn fifteen in a few months," Luna smiled. "You're a year above me in school, but you don't really have any friends in the school. I've noticed you in the halls, your mind was always somewhere else."

Harry was gobsmacked with the girl's confession. He'd been unaware anyone at school had _really_ noticed him. Not enough to know he wasn't totally invested in the day-to-day routine he had to keep up.

"It's okay, though," the dirty blonde's voice became somewhat dreamy. "I'm much the same. All I really have back home is my father."

"Well, then," Harry made a snap decision, for better or worse. "We'll simply have to be there for one another, won't we?" He smiled determinedly at the girl, green eyes sparkling.

She returned the smile, practically glowing at the boy. "I suppose we shall, Harry. I suppose we shall."

* * *

They arrived in the Capitol shortly thereafter, Harry and Luna sitting wide eyed at the window as the train sped into the city. The beach-dwellers had never seen anything like the grandiose city. There was metal and concrete as seemingly vast and endless as the ocean at their home, gleaming white buildings, countless people milling about in outrageous attire, and tall buildings everywhere that seemed to graze the sky itself.

The train slowed to its first stop at what Albus referred to as the remake center, where Luna and Harry would be beautified for the tribute parade. The two tributes left the train with their escort and peacekeeper contingency, Finnick and Mags would be taken to the training center to go ahead and settle in. Once inside the building, the pair from the fourth district were separated and herded into their own readying rooms.

Juno led Harry into his room, where he entered to find four people awaiting him. They were clearly natives of the Capitol, three women and a man. One woman stepped forward, her severe gaze quickly analyzing the young male.

"Hello," Harry smiled at the woman uncertainly. His action sent the three in the background into a tizzy, twittering about how adorable he was. The woman in front of him though, clearly in charge, had no reaction.

"Diana, Janus, Bellona?" The woman asked without directing her hawklike eyes from Harry. "Do shut up," she ordered.

The three ceased immediately, snapping back to attention behind her. They were an odd mixture of strict body language and downright ridiculous appearances. One of the women had dyed her skin a dusky copper, small stones had also been implanted that caught the light and shined at random. The male had several metal pieces of jewelry pierced throughout his face, something Harry found almost disturbing, and the other assistant had bright pink hair that coordinated with her clothing and shoes. The woman in front of Harry, though, was downright normal by the standards of the Capitol's citizens. She was stunningly gorgeous, albeit in an intimidating way. She was well taller than Harry, and clearly athletic in build. Her hair was long and brown, cascading down her back in curls and waves, and she wore a simple dress made of a black fabric that she accented with a silver belt.

"I am Ceres," the woman introduced herself. "I will be your stylist for the Games. My job is to make sure look nothing short of spectacular throughout the week, and before you write my profession off, you would do well to realize that the bulk of your sponsors will result from how I make you look and how Albus makes you act."

She gave Harry a slightly less frightening perusal. "Thankfully, my job will not be _as _hard. Your appearance by nature is not…too terrible. The majority of the work will be on your outfits and not so much fixing your look. You fair skin will be favored by the Capitol, and it compliments your dark hair and bright eyes. Your eyes are stunning, the glasses will have to go. Also, your hair is a travesty."

"Well," Harry began, but was cut off by a sharp glare from the woman.

"No, no. That wasn't an opening for you to begin defending your awful hair. Diana," Ceres snapped, turning on her heel to face her assistants. "I need you to fetch Doctor Pomfrey to diagnose his sight and find the right prescription to fix his vision. Janus, you will work to remove his body hair; I want nothing to spoil his skin. Bellona, you have the almost unbearable job of fixing the bird's nest perched on the poor boy's head. I know it's nigh impossible, but it must be done. I will be in the studio working on tonight's costume; do not interrupt me unless he has died during the remake."

And without a word to her charge, the tall woman swept out of the room. Harry was reminded greatly of the large, predatory birds that combed the shoreline back home in District Four. They fed on fish and other birds, and would often swoop down from the sky, take a fish right off of a fisherman's boat or pluck one from the water, and devour it on the spot.

Terrifying.

Harry was somewhat glad that there were no time pieces in the room; as he spent an indeterminate period afterward being shuffled from stylist to stylist. He was plucked, penciled, picked, waxed, lotioned, pampered, shaved, styled, cut, colored, and otherwise tortured by the three Capitol citizens. At some point, when Harry was sprawled into a chair with a stylist working on his hands, the doctor Ceres had called for came in.

She was an elderly woman with kind eyes, yet she still managed to have the discipline about her that Ceres carried. After introducing herself, the woman immediately set to righting Harry's eyes. She took his glasses off, blinding the boy for all intents and purposes. She then placed some form of diagnostic tool in front of eyes and began reading off some results that meant next to nothing to the green eyed teen.

"The good news, my boy, is that I can completely cure your vision," the doctor removed her scanner from his vision. Harry was still quite unable to make out her face, though. "The less good news is that it will not be a totally effortless transition for you. I have drops that will correct the problem, but we will have to keep your eyes bandaged at the very least until the parade tonight. At the ready area, you can remove the blindfold and you'll find your sight quite remarkably improved. You should expect perfect vision by the time you wake up tomorrow."

The Pomfrey-blur vaguely turned in the direction of the outrageously colored Capitol-stylist-blur and spoke to them. "Once bandaged, you would do well to dim the lights in the room while you finish your work. He'll likely develop a headache tonight during the chariot procession, as his sight won't be fully healed. I'll leave a painkiller that you should give him at the ready area after removing the bandages."

The Pomfrey-blur then turned back in Harry's direction. The blur moved nebulously again and approached Harry. Once the teen was uncomfortable with the looming blur, he saw a flesh toned shape move towards his eyes, and a chilly liquid began dripping in one, then the other, eye. He blinked the medicine in, somewhat enjoying the cooling sensation. The doctor then quietly ordered Harry to close his eyes, and made quick work of bandaging him up until all the teen saw was darkness.

"Thank you, Doctor Pomfrey," the deeper voice told Harry that Janus was speaking.

"It's no problem. He'll find competing much easier without worrying about glasses, and I daresay he'll be quite fetching without them as well." Harry practically felt the blush in Pomfrey's admission. "Oh, and absolutely **no** eye makeup is to be put on him today."

The stylists and doctor kept making small talk, but their voices began to get quieter as Harry assumed they were leaving the room. The teen dozed in and out of what he assumed were the next few hours, the hubbub of the past day still wearing on him. He began dreaming of the Games.

In an endless sea, he was swimming as hard as he could, various creatures biting him painfully as Annie screamed his name. He was then in a forest, his father sneering at him, calling his own son pathetic before hacking at him with a greatsword. His father's form melted into that of the boy's current mentor. Finnick's normally handsome face was twisted into an ugly scowl as the black haired teen was caught in one of his nets. A quick snarl was all of Harry's warning before the fisherman's trident was plunged into him. Luna was smiling sadly at him and gesturing him closer. He moved to reassure the blonde girl, stopped short by a knife thrown into his stomach. Harry couldn't help but stare dejectedly back at Luna at her betrayal. Her small body twisted into the monstrous boy from District 2. The handsome brute quickly swept the black-haired boy into his large arms. Cato held Harry close and whispered sweet nothings into the smaller boy's ear. Harry was lulled into an almost relaxed trance when he shrieked, both in the nightmare and aloud in the remake center. The towering blond male held Harry's heart in his hand, and dimming green eyes alternated between the still-pumping muscle in the boy's fist, his own lifeblood pouring onto the ground before his eyes, and the stormy grey-blue eyes of his captor.

'Trust no one,' Cato whispered, dropping Harry's heart onto the bloodied ground. The gory and brutal flashes continued, former victors he'd watched in reels and current contestants alike murdering the petite male in countless ways. The boy was sweating and jerking about in his chair when Ceres re-entered the room.

He was startled from his sleep by a hand shaking him, and started to panic when opening his eyes changed nothing in terms of darkness.

"Calm down, fish head," a female, slightly irritated voice intoned at him. "Your eyes are bandaged after the doctor treated them, remember?"

Harry simply nodded, focusing on evening out his breathing and racing heart. Between the nightmare and his sudden awakening, Harry was fighting the urge to bolt and the tremendous anxiety caused by not knowing _where_ to bolt.

Ceres let out a long-suffering sigh before speaking to her younger charge. "Relax, fins-for-brains. It's time to get you dressed and then over to the prep area for the tribute parade. You'll have this bandaging off soon enough."

"Is it normal for a stylist to be so disparaging to their tribute?" Harry groused, scowling in what he though was Ceres' general direction.

"No," she gave a throaty chuckle. "But it's also not normal for a Victor to live in the Capitol as a stylist. I survived the arena, so I get to degrade future generations of Victors as I please."

Harry wasn't quite sure what to say to her admission, and thankfully he didn't have to as she stood him up and began stripping him. He only put up a token defense against her pulling at the clothes he'd worn on the tribute train. A slight blush across the pale boy's cheeks and nose were the only signs of discomfort he showed.

Nudity wasn't something the people of District 4 were overly scared of, living most of their lives fairly exposed to the sun at the beaches. To top that, Harry was friends with Finnick Odair, the most statistically naked person in all of Panem, the green eyed boy was sure.

Harry was then wrangled into a very restrictive and small set of underwear that was then covered by absolutely skintight pants. The waistline rode low on his hips, and Harry felt that they covered all the way down half of his feet, leaving only a little more than his toes visible from the waist down. Ceres then began to fasten trinkets into Harry's newly shorn and styled hair. She worked quietly for a few minutes before placing a heavier object onto his head. Harry then felt her clamp heavy, thick, metal bangles onto his wrists.

"Done," Ceres announced to the room, which was uninhabited other than himself and her as far as Harry knew.

"No top?"

"Not this year," Ceres was almost bragging in her tone. "This is my first year as the District 4 stylist. This idiot in charge before now has dressed the poor tributes as fish for the past decade at the very least. Do you have any clue how few sponsors a pair of giant groupers receive?"

Harry laughed at the deadpanned question. "I would assume very few."

The tall stylist led him from the room. One of her hands held Harry's as she guided him towards the train that would take them to the prep area in the City Circle.

"Very _very_ few. I've decided to go for a more…edgy approach. There are tales told of creatures called Sirens. They live on rocky shorelines and sing to fishermen out on the waters. When the fishermen are lured in, they crash on the rock-strewn coastlines. The Siren then descends on the poor fishermen and tears them apart." She finished her story and directed the younger male onto the train, sitting him into a chair as the doors closed with a slight hiss.

"So Luna and I are to be these Sirens?" Harry asked, swaying a tad as he felt whatever they were in begin to move.

"Correct. Beautiful, seductive even, but dangerous. You'll see when the bandages come off, trouty mouth."

Harry smothered a grin at the thoughtless barb, beginning to understand that Ceres was insulting him because she liked him. He then settled in for the rest of the ride. They reached the City Circle after an uneventful trip, neither of them feeling the need to fill in the comfortable silence. Ceres then moved Harry off the train and into yet another preparation area, though this one was much louder and busier, and Harry heard Luna's voice for the first time since they'd been separated.

"Oh, Harry," the dreamy girl all but crooned. "You look mesmerizing."

"I'd like to say the same, Luna, but I'm a little unable to at the moment."

Harry received a mere _hmm_ in response. The girl launching into a story of her time with her stylists and how offended she was they'd made her take off a charm she wore on her wrist.

"Imagine, Harry," she scoffed. "However am I supposed to fend off the nargles in the Games?"

Harry fought to keep the confused expression off of his face, hoping the girl took the furrowing of his newly arched brows as indignation for her. "I'm not sure, Luna. Hopefully it won't be an issue."

"Indeed," Harry knew full well the girl had nodded at him in a satisfied manner. She was a tad peculiar, but Harry believed most people worth knowing were. Luna informed him that all the tributes were gathered in a large room with them, the prep area was the size of the entire first floor of the Justice Building back home.

The stylists fluttered about the two of them, making various last minute adjustments to their hair and accessories, before Harry felt a pair of hands begin to work on his bandaging.

A now familiar and overly caustic voice commanded Harry to open his mouth. Knowing better to refuse at this point, Harry did so to find a small pill popped into it. He swallowed dutifully, remembering the doctor's warning, and was rewarded with a glass of water at his lips. The blackness he'd become used to started to lighten as the bandages on his head were unwound. When the last layer was removed, Harry blinked owlishly for several minutes, his brain working to process what he saw and focus on it.

Harry found that his vision was easily as good as it had been with the glasses, with the added bonus of not having frame-induced blind spots or a lack of peripheral vision. Ceres was standing in front and a little to the side of him, a mirror behind her. He nearly gasped at his own reflection. His skin was only slightly different, more even than before, and his eyes were the same, but his hair. The formerly unruly black locks were only slightly shorter, but the Capitol's stylists had beaten it into submission and it now fell in jet-black waves shot through with random streaks of blue rather than merely sticking up at all angles. There were small pieces of shells, starfish trinkets, and feathers braided in at random as well.

"Now, you and Luna are ready to go to your chariot; the parade will start soon. Follow me." Ceres led the two of them swiftly over to their ride. Harry was somewhat taken aback by the massive horses tethered to the chariot. Luna immediately went and began petting the great creature's muzzle, but Harry kept his distance from the animal, taking a further step back when it snorted and stomped one of its hooves at the teen.

Harry and Luna were dressed much as Ceres had described to the black haired boy. The skin tight pants he'd felt himself being shoved into earlier were indeed actual tights. They were completely covered in large midnight blue reflective pieces that overlapped to create the appearance of scales. There were also random pieces of a gauzy mesh in lighter blues that were hanging like blue kelp. The manacles he'd felt on his wrist were just large iron bangles, Luna sported a pair as well. Their outfits were much the same, though she had a sort of half-top covering her chest and one arm, and her now white blonde hair was much more elaborate, piled on top of her head before falling down her back in loose curls and braids.

"Now remember, flounders, you are Sirens. Bewitch the crowd and your fellow tributes. Seduce them, lure them in, and when the time is right? Strike." Ceres nodded fiercely at her two charges, stepping aside for them to enter the vehicle.

The pair from the fisherman's district stepped into their chariot, looking around at their fellow tributes. Harry grimaced at the inelegance of the situation. Doll your sacrifices up and parade them around before sending them to the slaughter. The Capitol was so barbaric. He nearly laughed out loud, and his partner actually chuckled, as the pair from the luxury district came into view. They looked absolutely absurd in magenta furs and more glitter than Harry had ever seen.

His attention was neatly robbed though, when the pair from District 2 became visible. Harry's heart leapt into his throat when he spotted the large blond male. He'd been decked out in some ceremonial golden armor, an only mildly ridiculous headdress on, and a thick golden band crossed the widest part of his bicep, quite possibly making the smaller teen's mouth water from the attention it drew to his beautiful musculature. As if feeling Harry's heated stare, the male turned, and Harry found himself caught in that stormy gaze, wholly unable to look away. Cato's face melted into a sharklike smile, all sharp angles and predatory. Fully aware of his captive audience, the male from District 2 turned back to his partner, but not before flexing a large arm and nearly rousing a whimper out of one Harry Potter.

"He could protect you during the Games, you know?" Luna voiced, only half looking at Harry. The parade started as the two began conversing, a gate in front of the District 1 chariot opening and the roar of countless people in the crowd was nearly deafening.

"I have a feeling he'd just as soon kill me himself," Harry shouted over the din, smiling ruefully at his partner. "No, I'm not gonna ditch you for some meaty hothead."

"Not even one that pretty?" Luna smirked wryly.

"Not even."

Before he knew it, it was their turn to enter the City Circle. Harry tried to stuff the sense of awe down as his and Luna's faces were plastered across the television screens and their names were cried out by an announcer. The cacophony of the people gathered was beyond thunderous, and the teens from the seaside district were almost struck dumb by the sheer size of the crowd. Thankfully, the two returned to their senses almost instantly. It wouldn't do to be seen by the citizens as backwater District hicks.

The pair flirted shamelessly with the Capitolians as they rode by, playing up their roles as seductive water-creatures. As the crowd swooned and swayed and cheered the tributes on to their deaths, Harry knew they'd make quite a splash among the rich citizens, pun intended.

Harry was sure that he and Luna would prove the most loved tributes, all until the last entrants were brought in. Gasps, screams, and collective wails from the audience drew the aquatic pair's attention to the screens, where they saw the tributes from District 12 being introduced. Katniss Everdeen and Gale Hawthorne were their names, and as the cameras shifted to the two, Harry saw that they…were on fire. Costumed in all black, the couple from the mining district were coal, and somehow their stylist had ignited them. It was genius. Absolute genius.

Harry wasn't so sure that this was the last time he'd be bested by the 'Girl on Fire', either. He would have to stay on his toes where she was concerned, or she might best him in the only way that really mattered –The Games.

The chariots all pulled to a stop in front of the President's Mansion, which Harry angrily reasoned could fit all the residents of District Four. The President ambled out, a frail looking old man with white hair and unnaturally red lips, to give the opening speech of the Games. He spoke of the rebellions of the thirteen districts, then the destruction of District 13. He spoke of the necessity of the Games and how the tributes were honored to compete for the Capitol.

Harry wanted to vomit on the man.

The tributes were swept away after President Snow's speech ended. The chariots took them to the training center, where they would stay until the commencement of the Games. Harry took note of the fact that some of the other tributes looked somewhat disturbed as they had the realization that, for all but one of them, this building was the last place they'd step foot in other than the arena.

The tributes were all shuffled into a lobby and the building layout was explained to them by the manager of the building. The basement levels were all dedicated to training, the lobby featured a full sized cafeteria, and then there were twelve floors of housing. Each tribute's home district had its own floor, conveniently the same number as the district. Their mentors and escorts would share a suite with them, though all parties had their own separate rooms.

Harry felt the hairs on his arms stand up, and goosebumps broke out across his arms. The green eyed teen cut his eyes off to the side.

District 2.

The tall blond was staring at him. Those blue-greys locked onto Harry's green eyes, and once more the smaller teen found himself unable to look away. He wondered peripherally how dangerous it was that Cato seemed to be able to paralyze him simply by making eye contact. Harry's heart was fluttering in his chest, and he felt his face begin to flush as the blond teen began to ease his way over to the boy from the seaside. The other tributes began to mill over to the elevators, seeking refuge on their respective floors. Before he knew it, Harry was alone with the hulking blond, though Luna was close by.

"Your name is Harry?" Cato was in front of Harry, and the black haired teen was floored by the sheer size of the other tribute. Cato was a head taller than the shorter boy with his headdress off, and he wasn't even as big as Thresh, the male tribute from District 11.

The smaller boy simply nodded in response, not breaking eye contact. He found himself hypnotized by the larger boy, basking in his woodsy, earthy smell. The already uncomfortably tight pants he'd been put in earlier were nearly painful at this point.

"Four is a career district, even if they've been doing their own thing recently. You don't have to go it alone in the arena," the smooth baritone leaned down into Harry's ear. "_If_ you can make it worth my while."

Before Cato could move away, he found a lean arm around his neck and he was being flung over a much smaller body, sent sprawling onto his back on the tile floor of the lobby. He shook his head out of a daze to focus on a pair of acid green eyes practically spitting at him.

"I would sooner fuck the President himself than make anything worth your while, you ass!"

As Harry stormed off to the elevators, Cato couldn't help the lazy smile that crossed his face. The teen from the stonemason district was okay with being the one left on the floor this time.

The view of that pert little ass retreating in those tights?

Well worth it.

Next time, though?

Harry Potter would be the one laid out for Cato.

* * *

a/n: Going to class until 2pm, work until 7pm, then writing until 4am is making life…interesting, haha. Thankfully I love my job, course of study, and my boyfriend doesn't mind me being a basketcase. Review please, if you're reading! Thank you for all the follows/favorites!


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